The Doll's House
by scion.of.morbidity
Summary: When Celia saw the dolls' house she fell in love with it immediately. Unfortunately nobody ever warned her not to trust anything if you couldn't see where it kept its brains.


The Dolls' House

Disclaimer: JKR owns what you recognise, I own Celia, her parents, her toys and the doll's house.

When Celia saw the dolls' house she fell in love with it immediately. Joyously she told her parents that when she grew up she would have a house _just like it_, except bigger and with real furniture inside. She loved the pink walls and thought the miniature garden outside was very pretty. But what she liked best was that the house was _alive._

She couldn't put her finger on how she knew this but, as she told her very best friend, Jemima Pierson, while showing her the house in a manner similar to that of a proud mother, there are some things that you just _know_. And to Celia, the knowledge that her dolls' house lived was one of these things.

For days she refused to leave her room for fear of the dolls in the little house becoming lonely. At first her parents had been content that their daughter was enjoying her new toy however after the third dinner eaten in her room they had become anxious. They tried talking to her however their words of warning fell on deaf ears. Celia was too charmed by her little house to care.

"Celia, that's enough. It's about time you left this room for something other than the bathroom." Her mother exclaimed.

"Shush. Miss Melody's at a tea party," was all Celia said before she returned to her game.

"'_Oh that _is_ a lovely dress, Miss Sophie.'_

"'_Not as lovely as yours, Miss Melody.'"_

Her mother, quite taken aback, tried arguing with her.

"Celia, that's enough. Get up this instant! We're going out!"

However the little girl didn't acknowledge her existence as she kept on playing. Furious, the mother marched inside and grabbed Celia by the wrist.

"Up you get, Celia." She told her as she pulled. This, at least, elicited a reaction from the girl. Celia burst into fuming tears, beginning to kick and scream. She tore at her mother's clothes and bit at her wrist until her little teeth drew blood. Her mother gave a yelp and let go. In disbelief she held her hand up to her face. It wasn't bad, but it stung a bit.

At her feet, Celia had resumed her game.

"Celia!" She cried out. "You _bit _me!"

Was it her imagination, or had Celia just licked her lips?

She quickly walked out of the room, needing some fresh air. Beside the staircase, she clutched the balustrade and took a deep breath.

"There's nothing wrong." She whispered to herself. "There's nothing wrong. It's just my mind playing tricks on me – dreadful, awful tricks. Celia didn't _bite _me…"

The pain in her hand said otherwise.

"Any luck, dear?" Her husband asked as he walked up the stairs. She shook her head, still in shock. He took it in stride – he had expected no less.

"Very well." He said grimly. "I'll go talk to her…"

"She…" She finally spoke up, "She _bit _me."

He looked at her, horrified. Slowly, she raised her hand. True as day, red blood dribbled down her wrist leaving faint brown lines on her skin.

He let loose a shuddering breath.

"I'm calling a doctor." He said finally. "This can't go on. I'm calling a doctor and he can tell us what's wrong…"

"You think this is something a doctor can fix?" His wife asked. "He'll give her some pill and everything will be better? You don't need a doctor to tell you what's wrong. _I'll_ tell you what's wrong. It's that dolls' house! Ever since _you _gave it to her she's been different. Won't eat her meals, won't go out, just plays all day with it. I'm telling you, that dolls' house is… it's… I don't know what it is, but it's got to go."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He knew her to be right, however the thought of taking something so precious from his little girl pained him immensely. He knew whatever the toy had done to her it had also brought her great joy.

Finally he nodded.

"Yes. I'll go in there and take it right away. It's for her own good." He said.

For a second they paused at the stop of the step. His wife opened her mouth, as if she were about to speak, but quickly closed it.

She told herself he didn't luck. After all, Celia was the only thing trying to stop him. He would be fine.

Cautiously, he entered the room. It was eerily similar to when he had checked on her that very morning before breakfast. She was still sitting cross-legged before it, holding a doll in each hand by a table in the garden.

He didn't think she'd noticed him and was just about to snatch the house up into the air when she spoke to him.

"They talk to me, Daddy." She whispered. For a second he thought she was still playing her game, but then she looked up at him, eyes wide with both curiosity and certainty. "They tell me how much they like playing with me. But they get cross when I go to sleep. I've tried to stop sleeping, but I get so tired. I don't like to make them mad."

He knew he should have grabbed the dolls' house then, but her innocent little eyes, full of sadness, stopped him in his tracks. Instead he sat down on his knees and put his arms around her trembling shoulders.

"Don't worry, Celia." He whispered to her. "We'll take away the dolls' house-"

"_NO_!" She screamed. Suddenly Celia was not Celia but a rabid monster. Her voice was too deep and high at the same time and she was growing fangs, dripping with something green. Her skin was turning grey and her tongue black.

Her eyes were white.

She tackled him to the ground, hard fingernails – claws – digging into his shoulders.

"_YOU WILL NOT TAKE THE DOLL__S__' HOUSE FROM US." _It screeched.

The father heard his wife enter the room and gasp but he barely paid attention as the thing on his chest leaned in, snarling.

"_YOU WILL NOT._" It said again. He could only nod.

"No. I won't. I won't take it from you. Please, you can have it. Just… Just give me back my daughter."

It growled at him again.

"_YOU WILL NOT TAKE THE DOLL__S__' HOUSE!"_

"No! Please!" He screamed at it, but it would not let up.

Suddenly a lamp was whacking the beast and the mother was shouting, "Back! Get back! Get off him now!"

She hit it straight in the eye and it reared back, hissing. Slowly, on all fours, it crawled backwards off him. As soon as it was possible he scrambled back towards his wife, still holding her lamp.

For a second they stared at each other. The parents and the creature that had once been their daughter.

The lamp slipped from the mother's grip.

Immediately the demon roared, writhing as clothes began to rip and _things _began protruding from her back.

_Wings._

It unfurled them menacingly, protecting its dolls' house to the bitter end.

Then it leapt.

**TDH**

When Celia woke up the first thing she thought of was the dolls' house. She wondered how Miss Melody and Miss Sophie were today and whether Miss Sophie's dog, Mr. Snooty, was feeling any better. She opened her mouth to ask them, but stopped when she realised that she could no longer _feel _them. They were… gone.

She opened her eyes. She was in a strange white bed with a strange red-haired man standing over her, staring at her wide eyes.

"Who are you? Where am I?" She questioned the stranger.

The man blinked. He hadn't expected the girl to talk.

"I'm Arthur Weasley." He said quickly. "From the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. Not that you'd know about magic…"

But Celia shook her head. "Oh, but I do, sir. Miss Sophie and Miss Melody tell me about it all the time."

Mr. Weasley blinked again, but this time shook his head as well and began writing something down on a notepad with a quill.

"We'll have to add breaking the Statute to the charges, then." He said grimly. "But I suppose it's a good thing; the Wizengamot will give the case more weight this way… If I may ask, who are Miss Sophie and Miss Melody? Are they, by any chance, connected with your, uh," he quickly checked his notes, "'house of doilies'?"

Celia smiled at him and Mr. Weasley felt his heart break. His own daughter was about the same age as the Muggle girl before him.

"No, Mr. Weasley." She responded dutifully. "They're from my dolls' house. I don't have a house of doilies, sir."

"Dolls' house. That's the word." He muttered, quickly crossing the wrong words out and scribbling the correct over the top. Celia watched him with curious eyes.

"Sir, what happened?" She asked him.

Mr. Weasley sighed, but he knew he couldn't avoid the question.

"Your dolls' house, Miss Lamb, was cursed by an evil wizard."

Celia gasped, but Mr. Weasley was not done.

"It caused you to become obsessed with it and do terrible things. It turned you into a creature known as a gargoyle. Its skin is grey and leathery and would look like a dog but it hasn't got fur and has-"

"Wings." She interrupted. "Wings like Mr. Snooty."

"Yes." Mr. Weasley agreed with a sinking heart. "Wings indeed."

He paused for a second and collected his courage. He needed it in order to tell the rest of the tale. He owed it to her, to tell her the entire story. It was, after all, her story.

"And while…" He trailed off as her angelic face turned to him, so innocent.

_Like his Ginny_.

"And while the curse caused you to transform, it… killed your parents."

Which was the truth, if not the whole of it.

For a second he thought she was going to contradict him. He knew from experience how accurate childish instinct could be at times, however her tearful face never showed a hint of mistrust.

He almost wished it would.

"Now, Miss Lamb," He said in his most professional voice, trying desperately to ignore the grief before him, "I know this must be a difficult time for you, so I must ask from where the dolls' house came. Has anybody strange entered your room as of late – there's no telling when the curse was placed. When did you get your dolls' house? And the toys?"

"I – Daddy gave them all to me…" She whispered after a second. "Just a few days ago. It was for my birthday."

Mr. Weasley nodded. It was hopeless then. The girl wouldn't know where her father had bought the present. However Celia was not done.

"But I peaked. I saw the man – he came to the door at night, when I was supposed to be asleep. He delivered it then – a special package, wrapped up in pink paper already, which was how I knew it was the same package."

He straightened himself quickly and picked up his quill.

"Could you describe the man, Miss Lamb?"

She nodded quickly.

"He had white hair. It was really long. And…" She trailed off.

"Was he tall? Short? Fat? Skinny? Any facial hair?"

She shrank back at his barrage of questions.

"I don't know." She whispered.

Mr. Weasley frowned.

"That's all right." He said quietly. "I suppose all that matters is could you recognise him?"

She seemed to consider it for a second but then nodded.

"Brilliant." He said, closing his notebook with a snap. "That will be all, Miss Lamb. With any luck this information will lead us to the identity of the wizard who killed your parents."

He got up from his seat and stared down at her pale form.

"Get some rest, Celia." He said softly, poking the tip of his wand at her shoulder.

She fell swiftly into the land of dreams.

**TDH**

Arthur was a man on a mission as he hurried through the Ministry. As soon as he got to his office he could have Perkins compile the information and have it sent through to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement within the hour. Amelia would have it ready to go to court by the end of the day: breaching the Statute of Secrecy was important business, after all.

The wizard who had hurt Celia would be sent to Azkaban.

"Hello, Arthur, in a hurry?" The sound of Lucius Malfoy speaking always grated on Arthur's nerves and today especially he wasn't in the mood for it.

"I'm busy, Lucius, so-"

"Ah, yes, you would be after your latest failure. Eight Muggles dead on your watch was the last count I heard." Malfoy taunted him as he matched his step, somehow managing to keep up with Arthur's furious pace and at the same time make it look effortless.

"It was two." Arthur ground out. "And we know who it was, or at least a little girl does. We just need approval for some legilimency and we'll have the villain."

They rounded a corner and arrived at Arthur's office.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind," Arthur growled in a tone that made it clear that he didn't care whether or not Lucius minded at all, "some of us have jobs and therefore need to work."

"Indeed." Lucius said with a nasty smile he had kept from his school days. Arthur knew it well – it was exactly the smile the young Malfoy had used when he 'revealed' to a teacher that Arthur, a sixth year, had been picking on the first year Lucius. To this day Lucius had the amazing ability to get on his nerves.

"Goodbye, Lucius." Arthur said and, feeling both frustrated and excited, he slammed the door in his face.

"Good riddance." He muttered, settling down into his chair. Perkins seemed to be on another coffee break. He stretched out and yawned, grabbing a doughnut and munching on it. He was feeling rather tired. Perhaps he'd take a nap. When Perkins returned he'd have him start drafting the report and the wizard who had cursed little Celia's dolls' house would be caught by morning.

**TDH**

"Sir! Wake up! Sir! Something's happened!" Perkins was shaking him awake. He batted the boy away. Perkins really needed to stop calling him sir. It was a little off-putting.

"Just a second, Perkins." Arthur said, lifting himself from his chair drowsily. "What is it?"

"Sir, it's the Lamb girl!"

Suddenly Arthur was wide-awake.

"What? What about Celia?" He asked.

"Sir – she's dead." Perkins said solemnly.

Suddenly everything fell into place. Long hair that looked white at night, which was probably blond during the day. Lucius talking to him about the case… Arthur revealing that Celia would be able to recognise her parents' killer. Recognise _Lucius_.

"Lucius Malfoy." He snarled.

"Huh? Sir?" Perkins asked, looking up from a doughnut.

"Lucius Malfoy killed her." Arthur said grimly. "And what's more there's not a whit of evidence against him apart from the ramblings of a well-known enemy."

Arthur got up from his seat.

"I'm going home for the day, Perkins. Here are my notes, I'll look over the report tomorrow."

With a frankly astounding amount of insight, Perkins said nothing to this, but calmly accepted the notes.

**TDH**

Later that night Arthur was tucking his daughter into bed.

"Story, Daddy?" She wondered sleepily.

Arthur nodded. There were many in his mind to choose from. Perhaps had he not chosen to work for the ministry he might have become an author. There were tales of good witches and evil crones, wizards and dragons and, of course, tales of the famous Harry Potter. But tonight, he decided to try something different.

"Once upon a time, in the _Muggle _world, lived the kindest of princesses, whose name was Celia. This princess was about your age when she was given the most beautiful of dolls' houses – that is, a miniature house for dolls to live in. Except an evil wizard was jealous of Celia's kindness and so she put a curse on the dolls' house…"

He told her Celia's story, with a few edits of course. In this story the King and Queen were not harmed by the gargoyle, but didn't know how to reverse the effects because they had no magic. Instead a young wizard passing through the kingdom reversed the curse by killing the evil wizard.

"And so you should never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brains."

Ginny sighed happily.

"Was the young wizard Harry Potter, Daddy?"

Arthur chuckled.

"If you want it to be." He whispered, brushing a lock of bright red hair off her cheek. She closed her eyes and looked about ready to fall asleep when she thought of something else to ask.

"Daddy, why did the evil wizard curse the dolly house?" she whispered.

For a long time Arthur didn't answer. He thought back to what had happened to day – a family dead for no reason, unless Lucius' boredom with the non-Death Eater lifestyle and the enjoyment he got from putting pressure on Arthur's career were counted. But what could he say? That some people were just born evil? Not true. Lucius may have been a little git when he was younger, but he grew into his wickedness. That some people reacted badly to certain situations? Again, not true. Lucius was the one provoking action, not reacting to it.

He could always lie and tell her the evil wizard was cursed himself. Save it for another day.

But he'd had enough lying for one day.

"Sometimes, Ginny, people do bad things. There are bad people doing bad things and good people doing bad things and bad people doing good things. Some become bad, some become worse, some become better."

"But _why_, Daddy?"

Arthur leaned forwards and kissed her forehead.

"I don't know, Ginny. I just don't know."

/End/

More writer's block...

What do you think? Please let me know in a review!


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